A Beginning Part 2
by solista
Summary: A twelve year old Scott comes home. Will it be home or just a visit.


_**A BEGINNING**_

_**PART 2**_

It was a fact that he had been '_railroaded', _to use a colloquial term. He vented his displeasure to his grandfather and the attorneys, he was infuriated.

How dare they make decisions for him, he was twelve, intelligent and very capable of taking care of himself.

Now _his _father, Murdoch Lancer, wanted _him_ to travel to California. Why all the sudden did this _father,_ whom he did not know, want him to spend _his_ time to travel to California.

Scott Garrett Lancer had no workable theories as to '_why now'. _He also had no choice in the matter of the ordered visit.

Grandfather had told him, and he remembered every word, "Scotty even I can not ignore the court ordered visit. You do not want to see me have to pay the exorbitant fine and or jail time now would you?"

So here, he was tired, dirty and generally in bad spirits waiting in the little dirty town with his baggage around him. Waiting for the man who called himself _father _to fetch him as if he was chattel, he was royally peeved, well it was only for a year.

_**A SENSE OF HUMOR**_

Murdoch Lancer could hardly contain his joy and relief; his son... his first-born son was coming today.

However, it seemed like fate had a sense of humor... he could almost hear her laughing at his expense.

A new set of problems cropped up in the work orders, then before they set off one of the matching buggy horses he was going to use threw a shoe.

The replacement horse now plodding along in the double traces was dependable but older and slow. Matilda a horse you could never rush took her own sweet time to get anywhere... no matter the need for speed.

Paul O'Brien, his segundo and best friend, could not wipe the smile off his face at Murdoch's dilemma, "You know no matter what you say to her, she won't go any faster."

Throwing a glare at his second in command, "I could walk faster than this. The boy must think I have abandoned him again."

Murdoch's shoulders dropped, "Paul, what if he won't give me a chance, what if Garrett poisoned his mind against me, what if..."

Paul held up a hand, "Murdoch you've wanted this since Scott was born. It is much too late for 'what if's'... you'll find a way to win the boy over."

Murdoch harrumphed, and flicked the reins over Maltildas' back, which did not change the speed of her plodding hooves.

"I didn't do such a good job with Johnny," he growled out.

Paul smiled," Things will work out, you'll see."

Feeling a small gentle hand on his shoulder Murdoch turned slightly in the seat, "Yes darling."

Paul's five-year-old daughter, Teresa, patted his shoulder, "Oh Uncle Murdoch, Scott will love you, he just needs you to love him."

Patting the small hand, "How did you get so smart little one?"

Paul complained, "She's around adults all the time," turning a parental eye to his little girl, "And she needs to mind when she's told to do something."

Teresa bowed her head, the long plated braid falling over her shoulder. As she scooted back in the seat, she knew to what her father was referring.

Knowing the patron and her father were going to town to meet Scott she decided she would go along. It was true her daddy told her to stay at home, but she could not wait that long to meet the Lancer son.

Hiding on the floorboards of the back seat the men noticed neither the crumpled blanket nor the tiny boot sticking out from under it.

Well, she sniffed; she was here now and to hell... hands over her mouth, heck with the consequences. She would cross that bridge when she came to it.

_**THE ENCOUNTER**_

Scott Garrett Lancer once again headed off an errant dog that had decided his leather-traveling valise was a good excuse to hike his leg.

Hands on slim hips the boy surveyed his surroundings, dirty, hot, people clothed differently than he was familiar with and the start of a feeling of abandonment.

He wiped a hand over his forehead to whisk away a drop of perspiration as it made its way into his grey blue eyes.

"Scott Lancer," anyone here knowing his name surprised him, looking at the grey-haired man approaching he tried to discern if he was in immediate danger.

Seeing a black medical bag in the man's left hand Scott relaxed... but only a little, "I am Scott Lancer and you are?"

Holding out his right hand the man smiled, "Doctor Sam Jenkins, a friend of your fathers"

Taking the offered hand as was polite, "Pleased to meet you, sir."

Sam Jenkins took in the measure of the young man standing in the middle of his baggage. The boy had looked a little lost when he first approached, now manners seemed to have taken over and the young man stood tall, shoulders back ready for anything.

"Your father had intended to be here to meet the stage. I'm sure there was some calamity to delay him."

The hot sun was melting the facade of the composed young man, Sam smiled, "What say we go find something cool to drink."

Scott nearly shouted '_yes'_ at the suggestion of something cool, "I would appreciate that, sir," looking indecisive, the grey blue eyes looked into the older pale blue eyes, "what should I do with my luggage?"

Sam smiled that friendly, kind smile that he had perfected over the years, "We can put them just within the stage office."

Scott nodded and began hefting a bag or two as Sam picked up another two, juggling his medical bag with the added items.

Baggage secured to his approval Scott allowed the doctor to escort him to a cool glass of... anything.

The _cantina _was different from any tearoom or restaurant he had ever seen. The smells emanating from behind the small counter were enticing his stomach to make an ungentlemanly growl, "Pardon me Doctor Jenkins."

Sam looked at the pinched lips of his young companion, "When was the last you ate, Scott?"

Looking at the concerned man Scott shrugged, "I would say yesterday evening at the last way station."

Sam was astonished, "They didn't serve you breakfast?"

"Oh the station masters wife had a goodly amount of food, I was... ah...slightly indisposed to partake before the stage resumed the journey here," Scotts cheeks were red with embarrassment as he dipped his head to stare at the cool glass of water clutched in his hands.

Sam chuckled, not laughing at the boy, but showing he understood, "food didn't agree with you eh?" Scott was relieved he did not have to go into detail, and just nodded.

Placing a gentle hand over Scotts arm, "I've got something to fix you right up," Sam waved to get the attention of the proprietress and spoke to her in, Scott assumed, Spanish.

Within minutes, another glass of water appeared along with a bowl of soup and a plate with flat doughy looking discs on it.

Sam smiled as Scott lifted the tortillas and looked them over as he mixed the powder to the glass. Handing the glass to Scott Sam smiled, "Here son try this it'll settle that stomach of yours and help with the other problem."

Scott had to smile back; he had already formed his opinion of the country doctor. Grandfather was incorrect in his assumption that everyone out west was heathens and unwashed barbarians.

He liked Sam Jenkins and felt he had a confidant in the older person, "thank you sir."

Drinking the medicine down Scott picked up the napkin and dotted his lips, "not too awfully bad,"

Once again picking up the tortilla, "Doctor Jenkins, what is this flat _bread_ called and how do you eat it?"

Sam laughed, "A cultural shock I am sure, son," as Doctor Jenkins explained the use of the tortilla.

Scott nodded, deeming the flat disc interesting he watched as the doctor put a bowl filled with a sort of sauce in front of him and motioned to roll the tortilla and dip it into the sauce...

Putting the rolled up '_tortilla' _into his mouth, he bit off the tip and chewed.

Flavors... some strange some known to him assaulted his tongue. Sam had called this salsa... very good. Taking up the spoon he delved into the soup, spices hit his tongue and his very toes tingled.

His tongue exploding with a mixture of surprise and obvious enjoyment, this was very good.

"Tortilla soup, of course all the spices are very mild. Mrs. Vargas caters to Mexican and Anglos alike so she has two differing levels of... hot," Sam explained.

As the two new friends chatted, the Lancer surrey was pulling into the small town of Morro Coyo.

Two men and one small girl alighted and glanced around. No one was in sight Murdoch grew concerned, did Scott miss his connecting stage, and did he even come, what if...

He was about to voice his concern when Paul tapped his friends shoulder and pointed up the street.

Coming out of the cantina was Sam Jenkins and a tall, blond haired young man. Blue eyes locked onto blue eyes, connection established... now came the...

_**THE MEETING**_

Murdoch's lips trembled, his eyes filled with unshed tears. There he was, his first-born son the fruit of his and Catherine's love.

'God he looks so much like her,' "Sam," Murdoch greeted his old friend, "who is your new friend?"

Sam placed a gentle hand on Scott's shoulder, "Some one I met waiting for a wayward father. Scott this is your father, Murdoch Lancer."

Scott stared up into the face of the very tall man, blue eyes paler than his own grey blue eyes.

A strong chiseled face that looked like it would crack into a million pieces if he smiled, hair, a darker brown than his own blond locks and so very tall and big.

He held out a trembling hand, "Pleased to meet you, sir." He gulped back a touch of fear as the bigger hand engulfed his own.

This bear of a man could crush him like a bug, did Murdoch Lancer think of his son as a 'bug'. Someone so insignificant as to forget he had a son for twelve years. Well nothing for it now, he was here and here he will stay.

Murdoch Lancer had brokered deals for cattle, horses and land, who could talk rings around any of the best hustlers was now tongue tied at the mere thought of 'talking' to his son.

Sam Jenkins and Paul had told him to take it slow to be aware of Scott's feelings on meeting his father for the first time... a 'stranger in a strange land'.

Now that time was here, "So son... ah Scott how was your trip?"

Scott looked at his 'father' he had been at many of his grandfather's meeting... so small talk was the order of business.

"Just fine sir, I dare say I won't vouch for the stage ride, however I did enjoy the clipper ship," Scott could see a slight grin on the big man's face... so the man could smile, "Mr. Coleridge escorted me to San Francisco then placed me on a stage to here."

Murdoch nodded, Coleridge was the man hired to care for Scott on his trip west. He had thought it bad judgment to send a young boy off on a stage by himself so much could have happened.

His 'father' placed a big hand on his shoulder and Scott resisted the urge to shake it off, in polite society, you just grinned and carried on, "How far to your ranch sir?"

The unease of close contact with his 'father' was beginning to show as his body began to tense until he spotted the small girl peeking out from behind another man just behind his 'father'.

The dark- haired, pig tailed girl drew his curiosity as her deep brown eyes bore into his blue orbs. Most 'children' especially girls were quiet and demure and certainly did not wear jeans and plaid shirts.

The girl came from behind this other man and stood in front of him, as if taking his measure, "Hi Scott."

Her small face filled with a genuine smile, her brown eyes sparkled with merriment as she boldly walked up to him, those big brown eyes staring up.

Murdoch dropped his hand from his son's shoulder when he felt the boy tense up. Gently touching the head of the little girl, he smiled to his son, "Scott, this is Teresa the daughter of my segundo, Paul O'Brien."

At the confusion on Scotts face at the unfamiliar title, "segundo is Spanish for 'second in command' and one of my oldest friends."

Teresa giggled, "You sure have a lot to learn," her face scrunched up... "We need to find you some new clothes."

Scott looked down at his dusty but serviceable traveling suit, "what's wrong with my clothes?"

She put her small hands on her hips, "why that's just not the style 'round here."

Paul came up and put both hands on his daughters shoulders, "Darling I think Scott has sufficient clothing," he smiled his 'little' girl may dress the part of a tomboy but his little darling loved to shop.

"I've loaded Scotts things in the buggy, if we want to make it home by dinner we need to get moving boss," Paul looked at Scott, holding a hand out, "I'm Paul O'Brien, good to have you finally here Scott." After the young man shook his hand Paul spoke to his daughter, "come along Teresa."

Paul turned his daughter towards the carriage Murdoch and Scott followed behind, turning once to address Sam Jenkins, Murdoch called out, "Sam come to dinner tomorrow and welcome my son home." Sam waved, "I'll do that Murdoch," he was happy for his friend and grateful that finally Scott Garrett Lancer was home.

Turning towards his office, Sam reflected on another son of Lancer. A dark-haired boy he had delivered ... was it seven... eight years ago?

One day the fates may also bring home the lost boy to the bosom of his family.

_**LIES AND OTHER PONDERINGS**_

The young man from Boston plied with tales of the '_hovel of a dirt farm' _was surprised to say the least.Looking out over the vista below him Scott felt a stirring deep inside his soul.

Did that tortilla soup make his stomach upset, or was this feeling one of belonging of... coming home, it was something different and unknown to him.

Glancing a look at his father Scott could see the contentment and love the man showed on his face, as the glance was returned Scott had to smile... he couldn't stop it.

Turning away a frown rotating his lips down, would he be betraying his grandfather if he felt like he belonged here.

These were strangers, yet he felt he belonged that a hole in his soul was filled, he felt... complete. Murdoch waved a big hand to encompass everything, "As far as the eye can see, all the way to the base of those mountains... Lancer, a more beautiful place God ever created."

"And one man's dream, Scott your father built this place for his sons a legacy to continue the name of Lancer. I am proud to have been a part of it," Paul smiled at the confusion on the young man's face.

Scott did not want to be disloyal to grandfather but the man he had known all his life had lied to him. Lancer was not a '_God forsaken dirt hovel,'_ nor was it in a '_primitive heathen backwater.'_

Saying nothing Scott was overwhelmed by the immensity of Lancer, the orderly way the house and barns were set the cattle in fields and horses in well-kept corrals... this viable working ranch, one which obviously did well commercially.

The young man frowned, the one man he trusted had lied to him. What else had his grandfather lied about or chose not to impart to him?

Taken back as the men who had been toiling with various tasks all stopped and raised their hats in welcome, Scott felt like a returning hero after a long absence he felt... accepted.

_**A BROTHER AND OTHER STUFF**_

To say the house his father lived in was big, well appointed and comfortable said a lot for an '_uneducated farmer'._

As Scott was unpacking and hanging out his clothes he felt a presence behind him, "You do know in polite society a person knocks before entering another persons room," turning blue eyes to small round brown ones Scott smiled, "As well as waiting to be invited in."

The young girl walked around the open luggage touching one thing then another, "Uncle Murdoch said I could be like a little sister to you."

Looking up into his face Teresa smiled, "I never had a big brother or sister before."

Placing a folded shirt into the open drawer he turned back to her, "Well that makes two of us," his face scrunched up, "Teresa when we were on the way home your father said Murdoch made this ranch for his _sons_. Do I have a brother?"

Teresa smiled, "yeah ya do, and his name is Johnny."

Hesitant to ask, Scott forged ahead, "Is... is he older or younger?"

"Oh younger than you, but older than me," her face become animated as she giggled, "I guess I have two big brothers."

Scott finished unpacking and hanging or folding his clothing, with Teresa's help. She was then the official Lancer escort as she took him from room to room.

Stopping at the door directly across from his, "And this is Johnny's room," opening the door she stood to the side as Scott entered.

The room was much like his, only... Scott shivered it felt cold and sad. However, that was ridiculous how inanimate objects could give off that kind of feelings.

Turning he closed the door behind him, out in the hallway Teresa looked up at him, tilting her head, "I get shivery like that too."

She grabbed his hand and pulled him along, "come on this is the back stairs into the kitchen."

Glancing once more at '_his brothers'_ room he allowed the young girl to guide him to another adventure.

_**TRUTHS**_

The young Bostonian had spent three weeks at his father's ranch. He had always liked a little adventure this was more than he could ever had imagined.

In the short time he had been here, he felt more... alive, for want of a more descriptive word. He was almost glad the courts ordered him here for a one-year _trial_, what would grandfather say to that.

What would grandfather say to his riding a horse, with a _western _saddle and dressed in jeans.

Teresa was a hard taskmaster for being a girl and five years old. She had taken him riding to all her favorite places; they had picnic lunches beside a beautiful pond, climbed rocks to get a better view of the valley.

She introduced the staid Bostonian, with his faultless clothes, blond hair and peculiar way of speaking to the children of the ranch workers.

He thrived on the fun and adventure he had with them however, grandfather would never approve. He could almost hear the stern voice, '_Scotty everyone has a place in this world. _

_Some are above others you, my child, are above most riffraff. You have a standing in polite society, do not demean yourself to slip down that slide.'_

Scott had never felt that way... people were people and should be judged on their merits and actions than on their '_station'_ in life.

Scott had stood for a good few minutes just watching as his father sat behind the great oaken desk. A big ledger in front of him and receipts spread out on the desktop.

He did not want to disturb the man; he knew how his grandfather was when he was working.

However, the questions in his mind were battling for release. Taking a deep breath, '_in for a penny, in for a pound'_... just get it said.

"Father," had he been right to call this stranger yet 'father', was he being disloyal to his grandfather.

The older man lifted his head from his column of figures. His face broke out into a huge smile, his blue eyes sparkled with love, "Scott... son please come in."

Moving slowly towards the big desk, "I don't mean to disturb you, sir... but..."

Standing and moving around to the front of the desk Murdoch leaned one hip on the edge, "Scott... son, don't ever think you are disturbing me," he waved a hand over the stacks of bills, "all this can wait, it will still be there tomorrow."

Seeing confusion and worry on the young man's face made the father in him motion the boy closer, "Scott was there something you needed?"

Coming to a halt in front of his father Scott pulled back his shoulders, lifted his chin and stared into his father's face, "Sir why did you never contact me?"

Bowing his head Murdoch Lancer swallowed, his throat going dry. He closed his eyes and took a few seconds to compose an answer to such a volatile question.

Scott thinking he had over stepped his bounds began to withdraw, saddened his father felt the need to not answer he was transfixed as his father began to speak.

"Son, I have no idea what your grandfather did or didn't tell you about me. However, I want you to realize and believe me, I wanted you here beside me since before you were born," he waited for a rebuttal.

Scott was of the opinion that Murdoch Lancer had spoken the truth, what did that do to his grandfather's version of the truth... who was the liar, "Then grandfather lied?"

Murdoch wanted to 'yes' but knew how it would hurt the young man, "Your grandfather loved your mother very much. I'm not sure son how much he told you about your birth and your mother's death."

Seeing in his son's eyes that Harlan Garrett had given his version Murdoch wondered how close to the truth is was, "I had to send your mother away from Lancer, it was a dangerous time."

Standing he put a hand on Scott's shoulder and gently guided him to the sofa before the great fireplace.

Scott sat on the sofa as Murdoch took a seat on the ottoman, "Men were trying to take the land, and I didn't want a stray bullet hurting your mother or you. Your grandfather was on his way to meet up with her and then continue to safety in a bigger town with better doctors."

Scott nodded that he understood, so far the stories matched. Staring at his father, he waited for the differences in the stories.

Murdoch licked his dry lips with an even dryer tongue, "I wasn't there when you were born," with a small smile he continued, "I guess you just couldn't wait, you came early into this world".

Scott nodded agin, "Grandfather said she held me for almost an hour before she died," he looked up at his father tears in his blue grey eyes, "I wish I could have known her... I wish I could have been born here and I wish I had lived here with her and you."

Murdoch's heart flew out the open patio doors to ride the wind drafts like the hawks, both saddened and joyful at his son's admission.

"Son your mother loved you even before you were born; she had such great plans for you. All I ever wanted was my sons riding beside me and coming home after a hard days work to find your mother waiting for us," Murdoch placed a gentle hand on Scott's knee, "son?"

Bowing the blond haired head once more, "Grandfather said... he told me you blamed me for my mother's death... that you never wanted to see me to remind you... that when you looked at me you would see her," locking cold blue eyes to his father's worried ones he spat out, " is that a truth or a lie."

What could he say, if he disagreed with Harlan's lies would he hurt the boys trust in the man who raised him from birth, if he agreed he would destroy any love the boy may hold for his father.

Taking a deep breath, "I will not deny that you are so much like your mother, but son I only see the love she had for you and me. We... complimented each other. Her compassion to my common sense her sense of adventure to my more settled ways... you do remind me of her... I see it everyday."

Inching closer to the young man, "Scott I have never blamed you for you mother's death... it happens."

Scott nodded, "thank you sir for being honest with me. I love grandfather but he tends to sugar coat certain things and disregards others."

Shifting his seat on the sofa Scott continued, "I will always love grandfather. I am not sure I can forgive him for keeping me away from my family."

Patting his hand on his son's knee, "Son life throws a lot our way... I know you are made from strong stock between your mother and me. I know you will handle any situation admirably."

Scott nodded, "one more question. Who is Johnny?"

Scott watched a look of longing take over the eyes of his father. He of course had heard stories from the vaquero's children, but he wanted to know who his brother was and where he was now, "Sir?"

_**FAILURES **_

Looking back at his young son Murdoch Lancer did not know how to begin. How could he explain that he was a poor excuse for a father and a husband?

As a husband and a father, he had failed to hold his little family together... he was a failure on both counts.

With anguish clouding his blue eyes he began to tell the story of how he had re-married, had a second son then lost it all within two years.

Scott began to feel longing for a little brother he never knew existed, "Did my grandfather know about Johnny?"

"Scott...," Murdoch did not want his elder son to harbor ill feelings for Harlan Garrett.

"Sir, did my grandfather know?" Scott was adamant a non-answer on his father's part would not suffice.

Murdoch nodded, "Yes son he knew about my second marriage and your brother's birth. I'm sure your grandfather had his reasons for not telling you."

Scott jumped up, "No sir... no sir, he did not have that right. I have a little brother out there," a hand lifted in the air and a long slim finger pointed.

"A brother lost out there, a brother I want to get to know. A brother who needs to come home to me and you," Scott's shoulders shook with anger, "So what are you doing about finding my brother?"

_**HOPE **_

The year nearly up for his '_visit' _the young Bostonian reluctantly rode with his father into Morro Coyo to book his passage on the stage going to San Francisco.

Of course, it would be different stages and numerous stops, but Scott had become perceptive with the ways of the west.

He was no longer a _greenhorn_, the west endeared itself to his heart, and this man... his father had found the love that had been buried among the hate and anger. This was home now he would be back.

Scott had truly enjoyed his stay with his father; he had gained insights into the way the man was.

As an employer, the way the citizens of the towns respected him and the unconditional love of a young dark haired girl.

He clutched the small package Doctor Sam Jenkins had given him when he and his father visited the man. A smile between conspirators as they both remembered their first meeting.

At Murdoch's questioning look, Scott bowed his head and Sam smiled with a wink, "Doctor patient privilege."

Murdoch walked with his hand on his son's shoulder he was overjoyed when Scott no longer tensed at his touch or pulled away. "One more place to visit then home."

Scott nodded; looking up as they neared the small cantina where he and Sam Jenkins had had their first visit he noticed three men lounging outside in the chairs and table provided when it was too hot inside.

They were rough looking men and they all wore guns, Scott was now used to that.

He did not even know if his grandfather owned a gun, he would have to ask him when he returned to Boston.

However, these men did not wear their side arms high on the hip like his father or Paul or any of the vaqueros on the ranch.

Looking up at his father when the man's hand clutched tighter onto his shoulder, "Just keep walking son, don't say anything and don't look at them," Scott just nodded.

Scott had read about gunfighters and outlaws, his grandfather had warned him about the dangers.

Even now, his father seemed to fear these men; perhaps fear was not what he saw in his father's eyes... more wariness and perhaps repugnance.

He would have to ask his father about _gunfighters,_ his father pulled him up short when one of the men stood and blocked their way after a tense minute the man stepped back and laughed.

Murdoch propelled Scott forward releasing a breath as they entered the telegraph office.

Matt Romney shook his head at the entrance of Murdoch Lancer and his son, "I seen it all Mr. Lancer, gettin' so a man's afraid to walk the streets of his own town."

Moving behind the counter Mr. Romney nodded, "Now then what can I do for you and young Scott?"

They had sent the telegram to Harlan Garrett in Boston, who would make arraignments' for a man to meet Scott in San Francisco and provide escort on the long trip by ship home.

Scott felt that he was old enough and did not need a _nanny_ to accompany him to Boston.

Though Harlan and Murdoch did not agree often, father and grandfather upheld the escort... period.

As father and son exited the telegraph office Mr. Bo Teasdale huffed up to them, blowing out a breath, the stage line operator bent over and drew in a deep breath.

Scott knew the man to be old so this little jaunt had nearly done the man in.

"Mister Lancer, glad I caught you; this came on the stage yesterday. Near forgot it, seemed might important. If'n I hadn't seen ya today I'da got one o' tha Johnson boys ta run it out to ya."

Shoving a thick envelope into the ranchers hands the stage attendant turned back towards his office.

Murdoch turned the package over; the postmark was San Francisco the emblem emblazoned on the package was that of the Pinkerton Agency... Johnny.

Scott watched as differing emotions coursed across his father's face, "Sir?"

Stuffing the package under one arm Murdoch glanced down at his elder son, "Something I've been waiting for a long, long time. Let's finish up and head home son."

Scott knew the discussion of the mysterious envelope would have to wait... well he could do that.

His curiosity peaked Scott just nodded and followed his father into the Baldamaros Emporium to see if the supplies ordered had been loaded into the Lancer heavy wagon.

A few minutes' later father and son left Morro Coyo, the _mysterious _envelope beside his father in the seat and Scott holding a bag of hard candy for the children at Lancer. Scott had not forgotten Teresa; in another small package beside him were two hair ribbons. Scott smiled; the young girl did look pretty when she was dressed up and not as some tomboy.

A frown turned his lips down, he would miss Teresa and the children of the Lancer ranch hands. Bowing his head, he would miss his father and Lancer.

_**GOODBYES**_

Scott Lancer waved his last as the town fell quickly behind him. When he had first arrived in Morro Coyo as a naive and innocent twelve-year-old, fear marred the excitement of a great adventure.

Fear of meeting the man that was his father, the man he hated for twelve years of his life for abandoning him into the care of his grandfather, his mother's father.

Everything had changed feelings, needs, wants and even his own physical body. He must have had a growth spurt, because none of the clothes he had brought from Boston fit.

If they were not too short they were certainly too tight.

Maria, the housekeeper and one of his reasons for this spontaneous development, had just fed him too well; the play outside with the other children and the riding with Teresa had given a golden glow to a pale skinned scion of genteel Boston society.

The best reason was working beside his father, he had learned to _haze _cattle, clear a stream, and he loved it.

As he settled back into the uncomfortable seat of the stage, his mind went back to a few days ago and the mysterious letter his father had received.

It was about his 'little' brother Johnny. The Pinkerton agent had been one-step behind through each town the boy had traveled.

They had lost the trail somewhere close to Mexico City. Surmising that he was intent on finding his mother the agents turned their attention to Maria.

Murdoch had been afraid for his small son, how did he even make it so far south a child on his own.

The agents hinted at small jobs in livery stables and ranches. As well as the confrontation of people who detested anyone of mixed race.

When Johnny was born he never worried his son would not be accepted. He was a Lancer this was his world and everyone in it or around it knew his boy and accepted him.

Maria took their son into a world of hate and prejudice. A place where a person of mixed heritage was not accepted was shunned and worse.

Scott had seen how his father's heart broke, how the loss of his son hurt the man, and he felt remorseful about the thoughts he himself had harbored about the man that was his father.

That very night Scott swore to his father he would return to Lancer. Murdoch agreed but only after his education was complete. Scott insisted another four years Murdoch insisted college.

Education was invaluable here in California where at best it was sparse and college was not at the standards of the universities and colleges back east.

Therefore, until Scott was of age he would stay in school.

Scott, brought back to the here and now as his ankle received a kick by a very tiny booted foot. Looking at the young woman to whom the foot was attached he smiled and nodded as she pleaded that she was 'sorry'.

Scott was still young but he knew a very pretty girl when he saw one, "Can't be helped," he said then proceeded to shift his leg to give her a bit more room.

Perhaps this return trip would prove to be more enlightening than the trip out, it was certainly looking up as the petite blond turned her blue eyes up at him, the rose bud pink lips parted and she smiled.

Yes so much better as he smiled back at the young woman and struck up a conversation... all under the watchful eye of the young woman's mother.

The only thing that could have made his visit... no _return _to Lancer more complete would have been if he had met his _little _brother and he would be back to Lancer if only to help his father find the lost boy.

_**END PART 2**_

solista

2/28/2014


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